


shade to shade

by quillsand



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: First Dates, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, New Relationship, References to Depression, enjolras is a good boyfriend, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 03:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillsand/pseuds/quillsand
Summary: Even before he’s regained full consciousness, Grantaire knows he made a mistake in deciding to wake up today.He doesn’t need to open his eyes, or get out of bed, or make any attempt at doing anything other than lying here to know that today is not going to be a good day.There are bad days and then there are Really Bad Days, and from the moment he becomes aware of the day ahead of him, Grantaire knows it’s the latter.*****Grantaire wanted his first date with Enjolras to be perfect. Unfortunately, his brain has other ideas.(Ft. Grantaire's internal monologue, awkward small talk, a very tactile Enjolras, and a lot of hand-holding.)





	shade to shade

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I did nothing all day and then typed this up from scratch in three hours, which is very fitting for the theme of the story, I must say. Anyway it's now 2am and I should be asleep.
> 
> I'm not sure how explicit it may seem, but this story primarily focuses around a character (three guesses who) having a depressive episode, so please be aware.

Even before he’s regained full consciousness, Grantaire knows he made a mistake in deciding to wake up today.

He doesn’t need to open his eyes, or get out of bed, or make any attempt at doing anything other than _lying here_ to know that today is not going to be a good day. 

There are bad days and then there are Really Bad Days, and from the moment he becomes aware of the day ahead of him, Grantaire knows it’s the latter. It’s a testament to just how crappy he feels that he doesn’t immediately recall the significance of today’s date. When he does it’s almost worse, because of course. Of fucking course.

Today’s his first date with Enjolras. 

And Grantaire can’t even muster up enough feeling to be excited, or nervous, or anything other than vaguely distressed. They’re supposed to be going to a little Italian place close to the city centre, and Grantaire knows he should cancel. He should cancel, because- even if he were to leave his bed today- it’s not like he’d be great company for Enjolras. 

He should cancel. He _has_ to cancel- only, the duvet is more like a weight of stone sitting in his chest than a duvet, and his head feels like someone has glued it to the pillow whilst he’s slept.

He’ll just have to cancel later.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire falls in and out of sleep several more times throughout the day. He leaves his bed approximately one time in order to use the bathroom, before promptly falling back onto the pillows and closing his eyes.

He doesn’t cancel his date with Enjolras. He doesn’t have the energy.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras’ smile is like a beacon for Grantaire’s lifeboat as he slowly approaches the corner where Grantaire is waiting. 

He looks stunning, obviously, and Grantaire doesn’t have time to register anything other than the vicious sense of self-loathing that tears into him when he compares it to how he himself must look. The bags underneath his eyes were impossible to hide, despite the layers of foundation he smothered over them, and he doubts the rest of him is much better. His skin is worse than usual and the lack of thought he put into his outfit must show- his T-shirt may as well read  _‘I only got out of bed thirty minutes ago and put on yesterday’s clothes because I didn’t have the energy for anything that required more effort.’_

If Enjolras notices any of this, he doesn’t openly show his disgust, only moving to clasp Grantaire’s hand in a welcome greeting. Grantaire is almost tempted to recoil, because, fuck it, he hasn’t showered in ages, and Enjolras is so radiant that he feels positively disgusting in comparison. 

They manage to get seated and order drinks (water, on both sides) without Grantaire contributing to making small talk in any meaningful way. He would feel bad for forcing Enjolras to carry the weight of the conversation, if he didn’t know for a fact that his input would only make it a million times worse.

“Are you alright?” Enjolras asks as they examine the starter menu. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

Grantaire draws up a faint smile from somewhere. “I think I’m just nervous.” he lies, because saying he’s had a long day would feel too much like pitying himself.

If possible, Enjolras’ expression softens even further as he reaches out for Grantaire’s hand on the table between them. Squeezing gently, he smiles encouragingly at Grantaire. “It’s just me. There’s no need to be nervous.”

Grantaire smiles again, and somehow it feels a little more genuine. Enjolras squeezes his hand once more before letting go, and they turn to perusing the menus in semi-comfortable silence. 

Grantaire isn’t hungry, and it shows after he’s spent five minutes staring at the list of food in front of him. Nothing seems particularly appealing, and he hates how he’s making Enjolras wait- because of course Enjolras is finished, he might not be saying it but Grantaire knows he must be getting impatient, of course he is, Grantaire himself would be getting fed up with his own bullshit by this point, how hard can it be to just _pick a meal_ -

“Grantaire?” Enjolras asks and Grantaire startles so hard that his knees hit the roof of the table. Enjolras opens his mouth to speak again, but Grantaire bets him to it.

“I’ll have the, uh,” he scans the paper in front of him quickly and chooses the first thing his eyes settle on. “The bruschetta.”

Enjolras blinks, and there’s a slight furrow to his brow, but he smiles anyway, nodding ever so slightly. “That’s what I was thinking of having too. I’ll just call someone over for us.”

Grantaire sits in silence whilst Enjolras orders for them, fidgeting with a loose thread on his jumper. 

“Jehan told me you were working on a new piece?” Enjolras asks once the waitress has left, an obvious attempt to tailor the conversation to Grantaire’s interests. On a better day, Grantaire might have appreciated the gesture for what it was- thoughtful and sweet- but today all he feels is mild irritation. 

He shrugs and gives the briefest possible summary of what it is he’s ‘working’ on, all the better to prevent Enjolras from asking follow up questions. 

His tactic obviously works, because Enjolras, whilst nodding along to Grantaire’s words, also seems slightly at an end as to what to say next. “That sounds interesting.” he settles for eventually. “How’s it coming along?”

Shrugging seems to be his default response now, so he does, again. “Pretty good.” her says noncommittally, which is also a lie.

It’s a relief when their food arrives, if only because it provides a welcome distraction from the plethora of negative thoughts whirling around in Grantaire’s head and the increasingly uncomfortable atmosphere between him and Enjolras. 

Grantaire barely touches his food. He pushes it around a little, in an attempt to make it look as though he has, but he ends up feeling like a six-year old again, and drops the pretense altogether. 

Enjolras looks up when Grantaire puts his fork down and his frown is evident, even if he takes great care to replace it with a neutral expression within seconds. “Is the food alright?” Enjolras asks and Grantaire almost laughs because, yes, the food is fine. It’s Grantaire who is the problem in this equation.

“No, no, the food is fine, it’s just...” Grantaire trails off before realising that this whole thing is futile, why did he even come here, what was he _thinking_? Now he’s ruined what could’ve been a perfectly good date, not to mention any hope of Enjolras ever wanting anything to do with him ever again, and, oh god, how is he going to explain all this-

“Grantaire?” Enjolras asks again, tilting his head forward and speaking quietly. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Grantaire does laugh then, and he ends up shaking his head, not consciously having processed the intention to do so. “Not really.” he says, and is prompted forward by Enjolras look of concern. “It’s just been... not a very good day. Sorry”

Expression seeming to clear, Enjolras sits up straighter, hands coming to rest on the table in front. “It’s fine, you don’t have to apologise. Would you like to talk about it?”

“No offense, but that’s really the last thing I’d like to do. I’m sorry, I just...” he trails off, gesturing to the air around him as if it holds all the secrets to their universe.

Shaking his head again, Enjolras once more reaches for Grantaire’s hands across the table. “It’s absolutely fine. Do you want to leave?”

Grantaire pales. “We can’t just leave, you made reservations here, I don’t...” what he doesn’t want to do, Grantaire’s not exactly sure, but he does know that when he looks back up at Enjolras, there isn’t a trace of annoyance or irritation anywhere on his face. 

“R, we can leave whenever you like. I’d rather leave here than force you to sit here when you’re feeling unwell.”

Grantaire’s stomach twists at that because, whilst Enjolras is the most unbelievably earnest person Grantaire has ever met, and whilst he doesn’t doubt a word that the other man is saying, he does feel spectacularly awful for all the trouble he’s causing. Enjolras probably doesn’t understand what type of ‘unwell’ Grantaire is feeling, and Grantaire can’t find it in him to explain that it probably won’t be made any better by changing locations. 

Heaving a sigh, Grantaire nods. “Can we? Leave, that is.”

Enjolras is nodding before the words are fully out of Grantaire’s mouth. “Of course.” he says, without missing a beat. “I’ll just go inform the waitress that we want the bill now.” 

Once Enjolras is out of sight, Grantaire allows himself to wallow. He hasn’t touched his plate, and Enjolras had only half finished his before Grantaire rudely interrupted with all his drama, and wow, what a good impression to make, Enjolras hates food waste, and what has Grantaire just gone and done? He’d wanted desperately for everything to be perfect- which is the exact opposite of what they’d ended up being.

He sits alone at the table, only standing when Enjolras comes back, their previous waitress in tow, who carefully boxes up the food- because of course Enjolras had the foresight to think of that, Grantaire is such an idiot- before sending them on their way with wishes of a pleasant evening.

Outside, Grantaire has no idea how he’s supposed to explain everything that’s going on inside his head, but he figures he owes it to Enjolras to try. “Listen, I’m really sorry about everything, I know this hasn’t been the ideal first date, I just-” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair and preparing himself to battle on. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I’m sorry that it ruined tonight.”

Enjolras just looks at him for a long while, considering. Then he moves a hand to Grantaire’s shoulder, squeezing lightly before pulling him into a hug. After a few seconds of being held, Grantaire allows himself to relax enough to thread his arms around Enjolras’ waist, resting his head on the other man’s shoulder. 

They stay like that for what feels like ages to Grantaire’s brain, but in reality can’t have been more than a minute. Grantaire focuses on breathing, focuses on Enjolras’ comforting scent, on his arms, keeping Grantaire close, on his steady breaths, in time with Grantaire’s own. 

They part, and Grantaire has the impulse to throw himself back into Enjolras’ arms, to treasure the moment for just a while longer. But he doesn’t, because he’s an adult, not a child, and he’s surely been enough of a burden already. 

“You should’ve told me.” Enjolras says quietly, one hand still on Grantaire’s shoulder. “You could’ve cancelled; I wouldn’t have been mad.”

“I know, I know.” Grantaire says, because he does know, and God, how much easier would it have been, for both of them, if he had? But Grantaire doesn’t know how to articulate that he physically _couldn’t_ cancel because the thought of locating his phone and composing a text to Enjolras- or worse, actually ringing him- was too draining for him to entertain for more than a few seconds at a time.

Grantaire’s not completely sure, but he thinks subjects such as one’s inconvenient depressive episodes are more of a third-date topic. 

“I’m sorry tonight was a waste.” he ends up saying.

Enjolras expression could probably be described as pained, Grantaire thinks mildly as Enjolras takes Grantaire’s hand in his own. “Please stop apologising. I promise it’s alright. We can strike this one off the record, if you’d prefer?”

With Enjolras’ thumb stroking the back of his palm, and Enjolras’ gaze studying his face intently, Grantaire almost feels extremely lucky. “That’s be great, yeah. Does- does that mean you’d want to do this again?”

Enjolras looks vaguely surprised, as if he hadn’t expected Grantaire to ask. “Of course. I’d love to see you again- if you also want that, obviously. Maybe next time we could stay in and watch a film instead of going out.”

The smile Grantaire gives him is strained- although the restaurant certainly didn’t help matters, it was by no means the cause of Grantaire’s general morbidity. Nevertheless, if Enjolras wants to think that, then just for now Grantaire is going to let him. “That sounds great, yeah.”

“I’m glad.”

After only a little bit of persuading on Enjolras’ side, Grantaire agrees to let himself be walked home. Enjolras hasn’t let go of his hand, which is as nice as it is distracting, and although he doesn’t feel better per se, there is a certain weight that feels as though it’s been lifted from his chest.

For some reason, Grantaire has always found walking when it’s dark to have a kind of unplaceable calm about it. With nothing but the streetlights to guide them, it’s almost soothing. Neither of them attempt conversation on the walk back to Grantaire’s apartment- which he’s extremely grateful for; the peaceful silence is more than he could’ve asked for, especially now that his mind has quieted a significant amount. 

Enjolras doesn’t enter into Grantaire’s apartment, but rather bids him goodnight at the door. Grantaire is half-relieved because his floor is a mess and there is no version of him on this planet that would be comfortable with Enjolras seeing his living space in it’s current state. 

“Goodnight, Grantaire.” he says, stepping forward to pull Grantaire into another hug. Admittedly, it’s significantly shorter than the previous one, but, unlike last time, at least he doesn’t feel the need to jump back into Enjolras’ arms immediately once they part.

Grantaire becomes suddenly aware of how long it’s been since the last time he shaved when he feels Enjolras’ soft lips press gently against his cheek. “I’ll text you to arrange something for next week, okay?” he asks, and Grantaire finds himself nodding. “I hope you’re feeling better soon.”

Enjolras moves to turn away but Grantaire grabs his wrist before he does so. “I... Thank you. For everything.”

Enjolras’ smile is soft and reassuring, and for one bright and shining moment, Grantaire sees that everything will be okay. 

“No problem.” Enjolras replies, and then he’s moving away and down the street and Grantaire is alone.

 

* * *

 

He receives a text that night, from Enjolras, that’s basically a paragraph long reaffirmation that Grantaire has nothing to apologise for and how much Enjolras is looking forward to their next date. It’s so sincere, and so, so _Enjolras_ , that Grantaire has to bury his face into a pillow to quash the confusing onslaught of emotions that he doesn’t even have the time or energy to decipher. 

And if Grantaire screenshots the message to save in his phone gallery for easy access, well, no-one has to know. 

Things don’t get better overnight; Grantaire knows from previous experience that it usually takes a few days- if not weeks- to get through a slump as bad as this one. He struggles more the next day, and the day after that, but somewhere along the way him and Enjolras decide on a day for their next date, and somewhere after that he lets Joly and Bossuet take him out to see an exhibit, and somewhere a little after that, he feels almost functional again. 

It’s a long journey, but it’s one he’s learnt that he can make- one that’s become necessary for him to make. 

His second date with Enjolras is a drastic improvement of the first, and by their fourth date they adopt the label of ‘boyfriends’. On their fifth date, Grantaire opens up about his depression, and Enjolras listens intently whilst stroking his hair, only speaking to ask if there’s anything he can do to help.

When Grantaire calls to cancel their eighth date, Enjolras is incredibly understanding. Instead of their dinner reservations, Enjolras appears at Grantaire’s doorway with two boxes of Chinese take-away, and is content to simply sit with him whilst Netflix runs in the background. He doesn’t attempt to make conversation, or demand anything from Grantaire except that he eat as much as he can manage.

It’s not perfect, but it is something, and really, that’s all Grantaire needs. 

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Grantaire, I almost feel bad for giving him so much to deal with. At least he had Enjolras to help him, right? (And I would like to make absolutely clear that that is /all/ Enjolras does; he may be able to help improve Grantaire's state of mind slightly, but what he isn't able to do is suddenly make everything better- I hope I conveyed that well enough!)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! Comments/kudos would mean a lot! You can find me on tumblr at [tattoograntaire](http://www.tattoograntaire.tumblr.com)
> 
> (Title from John Keats' 'Ode to Melancholy' because of course it had to be Keats. Of course.)


End file.
